


Tiny Explosions, So Spooky

by superfast_pinetree



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: FTM, One of the two's a baby ;v;, Trans Junkrat, guess whoo, i'll probably add more characters in due time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 19:59:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7282615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superfast_pinetree/pseuds/superfast_pinetree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roadhog found a dumpster baby in a dumpster.</p><p>And of course he decided to take care of it.</p><p>[ON HIATUS DUE TO OTHER FANFICTION IDEAS AND LOW MUSE]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tiny Explosions, So Spooky

He could consider himself an intimidating man. Roadhog did consider himself an intimidating man, after all. But everyone, even him, had weaknesses. And, even though he didn't want to admit to it, was that sometimes, his emotions got the best of him.

Most of the time he could snap someone's neck in two without a second thought. He could split someone in half by their jaws without batting one single eyelash. Hell, he could kill most people in a very long list of ways; but of course out of all the things that he couldn't get past was his own damn feelings. Yeah, he murdered a lot. Yeah, he held people hostage to get a few hundred bucks at a couple of banks. But Roadhog did sometimes let the people he took pity on go. It mostly led to small children lost in the outback, unable to find their way home because it was destroyed. But it also sometimes led to some adults, the ones who didn't really do anything bad to him and didn't have anything valuable on them or in their brain. The brute knew in the back of his mind that in a shitty world like this they would probably die, whether he spared them from himself or not. But he put that beside his own thoughts and continued his way along, looting live or dead humans and trying to survive.

And, just like any other day, this one was blurring past.

Roadhog didn't own a watch. He didn't store clocks in his bags or bike. It's not like he didn't want to see the time, it was just that he didn't own any, anybody else didn't own any, and any petrol station, bar or inn didn't have any damn clocks anywhere. So the hours, days, weeks, whatever- they passed by. Nothing interesting happened except of the few who tried to challenge him - they ended up with a hook most likely so far up their ass that they could see his coming from their nose - it was just the same old shit. So today, of course, it was that same exact thing. Being bored, riding his bike across the chipped and broken highway, humming some stupid tune he forgot the name of.

And hell- his bike ran out of gas. Looks like he forgot to fill it up earlier that day. Damn, he was too busy pissing to remember to do it.

Roadhog let out a low rumble that resembled the word 'shit' under his breath, pulling up beside some fucked up petrol station that was so old and destroyed that he knew that even survivalists like him or the Junkers wouldn't live in this. He slipped off the vehicle, right off the bat deciding to check the abandoned place for anything useful. Besides, maybe people lived there before and they ended up blowing the place to smithereens. That's what a lot of people ended up doing. Taking heavy steps - he didn't need to worry about stealth that much, he had a scrap gun and giant hook - he made his way over to the pumps, checking to see if there was any gas inside. To his surprise- there was! Only a small bit, but just enough so that every single one of these pumps could take him a few hundred miles to the next town. Roadhog dragged his bike over with his own strength, filling up the thing with all the gas in the whole station. About half way, which was good. Maybe he should go check inside the building now.

The large man had to be careful with this building. No stomping his way or knocking anything over. Half of the roof was sagging while the other half had fallen clean off. The remains of the small petrol station store was obviously ransacked of food, drinks, anything anyone could get their hands on. Puddles scattered the floor and shelves from past light rainfall, and mold and animals clearly dominated this once man-made shop. Now it seemed as if it was part of nature. When Roadhog checked under the counter he found small coins and few five dollar bills crammed in the cash register, and he stuffed it in his pocket before he straightened back up. Might as well keep any cash he found, it'll be useful in the long run. Other than the bills, there was nothing but dust, water and mold, so after a few seconds of deciding he opted to leave out the back and possibly find something worthwhile, other than some soggy bits of money.

But of course, he found nothing but a old dumpster, and more land beyond that.

A sigh escaped his lips, his voice distorted because of the mask he wore. His grip slackened of the back door he was holding, and he let the door shut with a loud bang that would startle anyone. He thought about going to look in the dumpster but he quickly pushed that thought away. He wasn't a Junker or anything like that. He would not dumpster dive, or even stifle through trash with his hands. He was dirty, but he had standards.

The brute was about to leave disappointed but grimly satisfied with the amount of gas in his bike when something made a noise in the dumpster.

It was nothing to be afraid of, no- it was a tiny noise, barely audible over his own breathing behind the mask. The noise sounded like a small whine, something that an animal would make. Something not to hesitate over, at least. Roadhog scolded himself for stopping, shaking his head before he started to leave again.

That's when the thing in the dumpster cried. And oh boy, that was human crying. That was something to stop over.

So he paused, hands instinctively going to his hook and he slowly turned around. His mask was void of emotion, but behind it there would be a slightly surprised and grim look in his eyes. With small steps, Road shuffled over to the side of the large trash carrier. He then stood there, listening to the crying before, with a huff, he lifted up the lid and raised his hook.

What he saw was a baby. Roadhog laid his eyes on a fucking dumpster baby.

He dropped the hook, it landing on the ground with a thunk as he stared down at the small thing. It's hair obviously used to be blond, but now it was so grimy and greasy it had a weird dirty blond color. It's hair had obviously fallen off in small tufts, making it look like it had old man hair, and- was it's hair on fire? The tips sure were. The baby was malnourished, and it wore a dingy little onsie with a little footies. It looked like it was on the brink of death but shit, did it scream.

And at that moment, Roadhog's worst weakness got the best of him. One thought went in his mind, and that was that he wasn't going to let this child rot in a dumpster. No matter how annoying it was.

Roadhog bent down to pick the small bastard up, and fuck, it was so tiny he could fit it in one of his hands. He held the thing as he dug around in the trash heap for a bit, eventually finding a smelly but useful rope. He tied the baby to his chest using that way - he had no baby carrier, don't try to sue him for child assault or something - and patted him on the head with his huge hand - even though the baby was physically female (he checked), it would only respond to male pronouns - he had stopped crying by now, but was now looking up at him as if he was the best thing he has ever seen in his entire life.

Roadhog simply said "You're a dumpster rat."

He simply said "Pig!"

And Raodhog hopped on his bike, riding off and making sure that the dumpster rat baby didn't fly off to meet certain doom.

This was going to be a long day ahead of him, wasn't it?


End file.
